


What’s a Setter (Without His Ace)?

by Persephonee



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Canon, Can you believe it?, Fluff, I actually edited this, Is this good?, M/M, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, excessive use of commas, probably not
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-27
Updated: 2019-04-27
Packaged: 2020-02-07 08:19:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18616783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephonee/pseuds/Persephonee
Summary: Bokuto gets hurt and Akaashi worries





	What’s a Setter (Without His Ace)?

**Author's Note:**

> This started off good, at least I think so and then kinda died towards the end. Sorry ‘bout that.

Keiji knew something was wrong the moment Koutarou jumped for the spike. Hinata had received from the back of the court, sending the ball over to Oikawa who then tossed for the ace to do a back attack.

 

But his momentum was off. He jumped strangely so he hit the attack- it was a good kill- but when landing, the wing spiker’s legs were in front of him, not under him. So Koutarou’s back hit the floor. Keiji could almost _hear_  the sound his boyfriend’s head made against the wood.

 

The cheers of the crowd silenced around him as the ace- _his_ ace, didn’t get to his feet. The photographer’s eyes were glued to the man laying on the ground and it only took 0.6 seconds to realize his chest wasn’t moving and his blood ran cold. Keiji stood from his seat and leaned over the railing as Koutarou’s teammates gathered around him. The noise was like slap in the face as it rushed back to him, the crowd now noticing the fallen ace. 

 

The crowd of players were shooed away as medics came in, loaded the wing spiker onto a stretcher and disappeared out a door. Keiji’s next thought was for the infirmary. Where was it? He hadn’t seen any signs for it. Even if the photographer did manage to find it, would he even be allowed in? He was listed as Koutarou’s emergency contact, but was this an emergency? Would Keiji be contacted?

 

Before his thoughts could spiral even more out of control, a hand on his shoulder snapped him out of it. It was Kenma. They had both been given tickets by Koutarou and Kuroo as their boyfriends. The faux blond had brought his PSP, and had seemed to be focused on it though he always had thoughts on the game afterward.

 

“You should go,” he said. The man sounded disinterested but the taller knew he still cared. He was looking up from his game, after all. Keiji nodded and shakily walked back to the lobby, trying not to think too much. He had to focus on finding the infirmary. Before he could wander around, looking like an idiot for too long his phone rang. The screen displayed the name of the national team’s coach. “Is Koutarou ok?” was the first thing out of his mouth.

 

“Bokuto is fine Akaashi-san, but he does have a minor concussion. He won’t be playing for the rest of the game and is taking mandatory time off from practice. Would you like to come take him home?”

 

“Y-yes! One question, though.”

 

“Meet me in the lobby, I can come take you to the Infirmary.”

 

“Thank you.” With that, they hung up. The two minutes of waiting for the man were some of the most nerve wracking of his life. And the two minute walk there wasn’t much better. A few press and fan girls were trying to see through the small window in the door. “Coach! Coach! Is Bokuto going to be ok?” one called.

 

“Will he continue to play this match?”

 

Then they caught sight of Keiji. “Akaashi! Would you like to comment?”

 

“Could you give any more information on your and Bokuto’s relationship?”

 

The photographer ignored them. At least they weren’t as bad as the fan girls. 

 

“Who is that?”

 

“Why does he get to go in?”

 

“Wait that’s Bokuto’s boyfriend! Oh my god let him through!”

 

“No way, it’s so unfair he gets to go in!”

 

It sounded like the beginning of an argument, but the door closed, shutting out all the noise and chatter.

 

Koutarou was sitting on a small cot that had been set up in a corner of the room. His legs were spread out in front of him and there was a bandage wrapped around his head to show he’d gotten a head injury. Keiji didn’t know anything about medicine, but he didn’t think that really helped. 

 

The ace was listening to what a doctor was telling him. The photographer stood as silently as he could so he didn’t distract his boyfriend from some probably important information. He looked like he was pouting. Probably upset he’d be missing the rest of the match.

 

Finally the doctor was done and moved to talk to the coach while Koutarou caught sight of his former setter. “Keiji!” He exclaimed.

 

The ace lit up like a Christmas tree. The photographer leapt across the room to hug his idiot boyfriend. He pulled away just a bit, one arm still around his neck, his other hand jabbing his chest. “Never do that to me again!” Keiji scolded. 

 

The raven haired man’s heart beat had finally slowed to a normal pace now. Koutarou cupped his boyfriend’s face. “Hey, hey, hey, what’s this now? It’s not like I could have died, right?”

 

The photographer leaned into the ace’s touch. “I- I just got so worried, I mean there are things worse than death, I- I still could have lost you.”

 

“Oh, please, even if you did you would be fine without me.” Keiji frowned at this.

 

“Don’t start with that, I would not. What’s a setter without his ace hm?” The former setter raised an eyebrow, daring the owl like man to argue.

 

He didn’t. Instead, Koutarou hid his blushing face in his boyfriend’s chest. “Keeeiiiiiijiiiiiiii!!! How am I supposed to look professional and dignified when you say stuff like that?!”

 

Said man chuckled and stroked the other man’s black and white hair. “Is there a back door we could use? There’s a crowd outside.”

 

Someone cleared their throat. They both looked to see the doctor and the coach still standing in the room. The two men flushed as they realized that the doctor and the coach were still in the room. “I can take care of the press, you two head home,” the coach said, not meeting either man’s gaze.

 

Keiji nodded and stood, pulling his boyfriend with him. They waited a few minutes, listening to the muted voices of the people outside, fade to silence. The photographer stuck his head out of the door. The hallway was empty. 

 

The couple left, hand in hand to a quiet night at home.   
  


**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!! I’ve got an idea for a Tsukkiyama pic so we’ll see where that goes. Come hit me up on Tumblr @queenofbinge!!


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